


Exposed

by writinraven



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinraven/pseuds/writinraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas and Gimli were wed after their quest, and Legolas is only now returning home to Mirkwood. He should have expected the reception he received.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Returning Home

When Gimli had first placed the braids, and clasped the braids with beads he had forged with his own two hands, Legolas felt as though they would be able to conquer the world together. Once one had completed a quest such as theirs, what was married life, even separated as they were? The distance was not ideal of course, Legolas always longed to see Gimli more, and their letters never seemed to be enough.

Then, he was summoned home to assist his Father. He thought little of the braids in his hair, or the craft of his armor as he saddled and made the journey to the returning glory of his homeland. Soon, they would no longer be called Mirkwood, and that gladdened him, and he felt his heart was at ease as he rode into stables. He was rushed to the throne room, which spoke of the urgency the King had imposed upon his people. It was not unlike him to demand his son as soon as he could, and Legolas strode into the room.

To his surprise it was silence that he was greeted with, and cold eyes looked upon him. Legolas knew in that moment that he was not dealing with his father who had once told him that his heart would guide him, but his King would had once thrown the dwarves seeking their home into the dungeons without remorse.

"Father...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is basically a teaser, and an introduction for gauging interest!


	2. Thranduil's Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil's perspective of Legolas and his entry into the throne room.

Thranduil could not believe his eyes upon his only son walking into his throne room, so openly, so boldly defiant in his very appearance. As if he was not declaring so much with his clothing, and his hair. It was enough to make his stomach turn in ways that his beloved son should not, and had never before. These are things that a father should never have to endure and gaze upon, especially not from their precious Heir. 

It had been many years since he had been able to look upon Legolas’ visage, and he has anticipated change, especially since he had heard of the quest’s journey. The journey that had forced his son from the relative comfort and security of their boundaries, and across the known lands with what had become known as the Fellowship. That he had warred against odds that should had killed him, and his companions many times over. He knew he would see him harden, and a warrior, but…his memory was not so vague that he would not have noticed such odd adornments upon his son’s body.

One could not say he was fond of dwarves, and he had always been clear of his feelings on the matter. However that did not mean he was ignorant of their culture, one must know their enemies, and potential allies. Thus he had been educated by many on how they worked inside and out, whether or not he deemed it worthy knowledge. They had once worked alongside the dwarves before Smaug, and he knew his son had sought to mend the bridges, and now…now he knew why.

Where once his son had worn soft supple leather that would bend with him, and lend to the natural grace of his people, now he wore strong sturdy leather. Even in his anger, Thranduil knew that it was made for Legolas, and that no other could have worn it, it was would guard him better than anything he had seen before. Not that he would ever accept that. Even the arm bracers that gripped his son’s forearms were of the same craft, and still unmistakably dwarven. He remembered the words of a merchant of the dwarves many years ago, “even for the King, we would not sell our best craft. Nay, that is reserved for our One.”

Their One. He knew that phrasing well, it was what those damnedable creatures lived their lives by, that they would find their one beloved. Thranduil gazed coldly over his son, in some of the finest dwarven leather work he had ever seen, and knew in his hearts of hearts that his son was selected, and had accepted that he was the One of those dwarves. The carvings in the leather seemed to mock him, even though he knew it was not intentional nor for him. That had been carved for his son, meant to woo or charm his heart. This was unacceptable.

“Father…?” Legolas’ voice, his son’s voice, unchanged despite what he had seen broke through his swirling thoughts. How could that remain so pure, as though he were the same boy he had sent to Council? The same one he had warned the Captain of the Guard away from? It seemed he had not been focused on the proper set of beings.

He turned from him, looking outward towards the throne. He was thinking about the time the dwarven campaign for the Mountain campaign came through and if his son's reactions to them. He had seemed cold then, but had he been hiding his unnatural lust towards towards disgusting beings. He could hear the twinkling on the silver beads that Legolas dared to allowed to be braided into his glorious hair.

"Tell me...did you think I would not notice?" He finally asked coldly, looking back towards his son finally. Thranduil wondered what Legolas would say, he moved only one step closer. "Or perhaps, did you think me ignorant of the customs?" He brushed his own hair back over his shoulder.

He could hear the sharp inhale of his son's breathe. Ah, at least he was clear about his upset. Good, then perhaps they could discuss his befouling of his body with the dwarf he had chosen. He would not allow his son's light to fade over one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He does love his son, I swear. He's just...bad at it.


	3. Anger of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil comes a decision, one that does not bode well for Legolas.

"Tell me...did you think I would not notice?” His father finally answered him, his tone leaving no room to wonder what he was referring to, as if there could be a question. Thranduil approached him by one step; Legolas fought the instinctive urge to retreat the same amount as he continued, a sharp inhale of breathe involuntary. “Or perhaps, did you think me ignorant of the customs?"

 

Legolas had indeed been expecting his Father to not have intimate knowledge of dwarfish marriage customs. He, himself, had not realized at first how to go about things when Gimli had approached him with the beads. He was too late to backtrack, then again that would be doing his husband a great disservice to deny what had occurred after the journey, and now…now he had to face down his choices.

 

He swallowed hard, standing taller, allowing the stiff strong armor to support him as if Gimli were here to lend him his very strength. Seemingly carelessly, he brushed his hair, exposing the braids in their glory.

 

The flinch of Thranduil at the exposure was unmistakable. No one could not see what they meant if one knew their meaning, especially with the custom made beads that clasped the ends of each one. They were not the thinner soft braids that the elves so often preferred in their own hair. Each of the four braids hung oddly thick in Legolas’ hair. They sat almost out of place in the elf’s hair, though he wore each one with pride dimming the oddness.

 

The beads shone in the unseen the light sources of the throne room, and Legolas couldn’t help but slightly shake his hair, as it moving to displace dust. The pair of beads pinged against each other, echoing in the silence. He knew that his Father would not be admiring the craft that he was given, for it was fine craft. Mithril had been used in these, and there was precious little of that these days. Gimli had not thought much of it when he had requested enough for his clasps and his beads. Each bead had a dwarven rune pressed into it: loyalty, fidelity, honor, strength. Fitting runes for a new marriage, or so the dwarves believed.

 

He would not do the dishonor to their marriage that his Father demanded, or desired and deny his union with Gimli. He could not. They had endured too much, seen too much and none other than the dwarf would have seen the world as he had, and he would not regret following him the day after he passed.

 

“Yes, it has been some time since you dealt in the matters of dwarves, and even then I did not believe your knowledge would extend to their more intimate customs,” Legolas finally replied. After all, the dwarves were notoriously private and reserved, especially around the elves these days. It had taken some time for those under Gimli’s eye to respond to Legolas, and he doubted that Gloin would ever forgive him of his involvement in the quest on the Lonely Mountain. Legolas did not begrudge his father-in-law, though it would have been easier if one of their families had been more than cold towards their union. Not that he had expected it would be his that would give in first, far from it, given that his Father would still have Gloin, and the others in the dungeons if not for a crafty Hobbit with a ring that had later caused them all sorts of trouble.

 

“Then you are a fool for more doubting my vast knowledge,” Thranduil countered, turning his back to Legolas, his robes curved around his feet, a deep red around his feet as he thought over his next words. He knew how headstrong his glorious son had always been. “You are allowing one of Durin’s kin to sully your skin…and their craft to taint your precious hair. You should not wear such things while you are here. I do not allow that trade for a reason,” He finally said.

 

Legolas froze, not astonished, yet surprised all at once. Did Father known of Gimli, or was he hoping Legolas had chosen high breeding among the dwarves? Likely it was the second of those, knowing him, but to suggest he would remove his beads…it was a statement of divorce. That he was saying that his husband could not care for him, nor provide.

 

“I thought you said you know the traditions, Father,” He finally cautiously, stepping back on a single foot, some part of him worried, saying he should flee while he could.

 

“And I do…” Thranduil’s cold tone left no room for mistake. He knew what he was demanding of his son.

 

A hand went up to the braids protectively, and he swallowed hard looking up at Thranduil, his King, his Father. “No…” He nearly stumbled over the word, looking at his Father. “No, I shall not remove the braids.”

 

Thranduil closed his eyes, his decision made. “This brings me little joy, Legolas…” Legolas stepped forward, wondering if he was about to face banishment, before he saw the favored blade of his father’s being drawn swiftly. He jerked back as Thranduil’s hand lashed out seizing one of the braids in a firm grip.

 

“But since you will not remove them, I shall have to _cut_ them from your hair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, I struggled with just how to capture the image I wanted with the end of the chapter. I hope the wait is worth it!


	4. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and his Father have a disagreement.

“But since you will not remove them, I shall have to  _cut_ them from your hair.”

The blade sat close to Legolas' head, as his Father paused with one hand in his hair, gripping the braid as if it was offensive to his very presence and perhaps it was as far as he was concerned. The prince swallowed hard, and looked up at the King, his Father, and knew he had a decision to make, and it was not an easy one. He would either have to draw his blade and war with Thranduil, or...allow his husbands work to be destroyed.

He wished dearly that he had thought of this possibility before, and had a plan to soothe his Father's rage without the risk of a clash of blades, but he had not. Now this would end in either the clash of steel, or the loss of his honor. He had no doubt the elven messengers would tell Gimli that the braids were gone from the Prince's hair before he could explain what had occurred, and that his Father would send them immediately to ensure that Gimli thought his son had abandoned him and their marriage. It was not above the King to do such an act if he was planning on slicing the braids free.

As it was, he had a decision to make, and now.

He swallowed, and as Thranduil's blade went to slice the braid, his own sword blocked it, the echo of the blades sounding throughout the vast chambers of the lair. As Thranduil's shock stilled him, Legolas pulled his braid, and head free from the grasp of the King. He stood defiantly as he gazed upon his King, no sign of his Father in the other man.

"I will not dishonor my husband," He said, holding his blade in front of him, ready to block any attack that he may have evoked upon himself. Now he knew he'd be lucky if he only faced banishment for his crime.

"Then you dishonor me," Thranduil said as he looked down at his son, his eyes cold and filled with an icy anger. "And I will now allow such a thing from Greenleaf's Prince, and my son." 

Legolas had a second to question what that meant, if it spelled banishment or even disownment from the Kingdom. It would be an ache he was not sure he could recover from, even though he had expected it when the truth was revealed. He could flee to Gimli's side in the Glittering Caves, or seek protection with Estel if need be before moving to his husband's domain. Either would run him the risk of further ire of the King. Though he doubted he could do much more to anger him, beyond banishment.

Before his plans could settle in his head, the blade of the King came towards him, and he was forced to block again. He was hesitant even now to go on the offensive against Thranduil, his father, he whom had raised Legolas alone after his wife's passing. It seemed that Thranduil had no such hesitation as he attacked again, each strike high, and it's intent clear. He sought to remove the braids, even now, but that was better than death, and even in his anger, Thranduil loved his son, and would not seek his head, or agony.

The blades clashed again, and again. Legolas was forced back, and down towards the steps leading into the throne room. The guards doing nothing to interfere in the family battle.

"Stop this, Father! You would seek my pain and force me to an eternity alone, rather than see me happy, even with a dwarf," He cried pushing back against an attack, forcing Thranduil back finally. He clashed his blades harder against the King, pushing him back towards the throne, preventing them from tumbling on to the slim walkway. His skill in a blade was noticeably more pronounced than Thranduil's, or it may just be the years of practice that he had versus the relative peace he knew his King had experienced. "You want me to suffer as you have without mother?" He snapped, as he pushed his Father again, this time knocking Thranduil to the ground.

Thranduil was aghast as he looked up at his son, the mention of his wife stopping all attacks. "How  _dare_  you!"

 


	5. Peace Grows

"How dare you!" Thranduil’s outrage echoed in the chambers. He could not help the sharp pain in his chest when he thought of his beloved long lost to him, and his son, and to think that Legolas would use her against him. His love for the Sindarin elf, and the agony of the lost of her had never left him, even as their son aged nearly 5000…no other could ever hope to encompass the love he held for her, even now.

“You would speak as if your love even could hold a candle to the eternal love I have held for her,” He was no longer able to hold his tone in a peaceful manner, staring coldly at his precious son, her son. “As if something so short as 100 years could even encompass the lifespan…” Thranduil pushed himself up, standing again, moving towards his throne. “Throwing away your immortality, your eternal life…over something that will end in the blink of an eye, for a being that will return to stone upon his death, who can never join you in the Undying Lands.”

Legolas was aghast at his Father’s claims; his instinct to leap to defend his love with Gimli suddenly paused. He heard his King’s words yes, but perhaps he had been listening to the wrong things.

Thranduil was of course angry over a dwarven lover for his son, his hatred of the dwarfs as strong as it had been in many centuries, and lifetimes of theirs. However, Legolas finally heard the true issues behind the marriage, and the joining.

“My King…Father, allowing this union does not mean you are going to lose me,” He spoke softly, following after him. His steps light, and careful of the robes that Thranduil was oddly fond of, and reminiscent of a much younger Legolas following him through the hallowed chambers after his Grandfather’s death. A young prince who would not be shaken from his Father’s side after his mother left this world, and Legolas thought he finally saw what had been upsetting him. 

Hearing the earnest reply, Thranduil all but collapsed in the throne, exhausted and drained by the fighting, but knowing they were not yet done, because his son knew so much, and saw even more. He was proud and dismayed all at once at that Legolas managed to find the heart of the matter so very easily.

“You know better than speaking lies,” the King replied, waving a hand to his son, as if to dismiss the idea from the air. “This union has stripped me of you, my son, and my heir. You will never inherit Mirkwood, and perhaps you had never intended too, but it was my dream to see you inhabit these halls for years to come, to guide and rule the Woodland Elves alongside the new King you know so well from your travels. But now,” he paused, his eyes almost unseeing. “Now that will never pass, and I know you will breathe for perhaps a 100 years more, and those years will not be spent at my side.” 

Legolas paused, barely an arm’s length from Thranduil, striken by his words. He had not once thought of his Kingdom, or his family beyond the inevitable warring, when he had agreed to the marriage. It had been only his heart, and love guiding him along the path to joining with Gimli, and now well now it was too late to turn back and change the path he had started on. Not that he would even if he could, he knew. Mirkwood could survive without him, and his leadership. Now he feared though, that perhaps Thranduil would not.

“I cannot abandon him, Father…” He tried to reply, his tone still soft. “He holds my heart in his hands, and to him nothing has ever been more precious than that. How could I refuse his love?” He knelt in front of Thranduil pleading with his eyes, and words. “100 years of his love is worth more than eons of endless nothingness without him. I have no heir to speak of, and I cannot imagine existing beyond his fading. I do not know how you managed with Mother, or what toll it cost to continue on raising me even past her ending. Words fail me when I try to thank you for that struggle...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. Life caught up in a big way. We're approaching the end of the saga. Next chapter will be the ending!


	6. It Comes to an End

“Words fail me when I try to thank you for that struggle...” Legolas’ words felt as if a brand was being placed inside Thranduil. His son, his once heir, was thanking him for doing what is his duty as father to his child. He shook his head, a bit sadly, knowing that Legolas would never understand the burden placed upon him that is, he would never know parenthood. Besides, what child could exist for them? Even if they adopted one, they were torn, a family divided on strong societal lines. Lines that Thranduil had no personal objection too. 

“I…you need not thank me, for that is the fact and joy of parenthood. Seeing your own child grow, and learn, no matter what you are enduring. The child, you Legolas, always comes first…” Thranduil finally replied. He rested a hand on Legolas’ shoulder, wondering how often in this blink of an eye he would see his son before his passing. He hoped it was more than he feared.

“Father…?” Legolas’ tone was understandably questioning. After all, his Father’s words held something not quite approval, but less of a punishment. The tone was not that of a King angry with his Prince, but a father who was weary and worried for his son.

Thranduil pulled Legolas in, and kissed his temple once, and then kissed each of the braids softly. “I cannot say I approve, for you know well enough that would be a lie, and I have told myself I do not wish to lie to you…” He sighed once, and leaned back to gaze upon his son. “Does he bring you joy?”

Legolas could only nod, wondering his Father was serious with his meaning, or if Legolas was being lured into a state of compliance before his braids were sliced away while he stayed so close to his Father. 

“Then…I will come to accept that, and that knowledge will be my comfort when you have left me, my dear Legolas,” Thranduil said, before kissing the middle of Legolas’ forehead. “That is all I can ask, I suppose. Your heart is committed, and your mind set in stone as if you were he. I cannot change that, though I wish you had chosen an easier path.”

Legolas cupped his Father’s hands, too grateful for the change of heart to protest that being The One of a dwarf was not something that was generally chosen, but something fated to be. Maybe one day they could cross that bridge, but for now he would be grateful for the peace they had reached. “Father…thank you.”

Thranduil smiled, his hands clasped by his son, his prince, no matter if he was not the heir, and spoke, “Do not thank me for being your father. That means accepting all things that you get into, no matter my own feelings.”

It was only then that Legolas paused, and chuckled weakly. “I…just realized. I have no idea why you had summoned me to begin with, since we quarreled so quickly and fiercely.”

Thranduil began to laugh, exhausted by the fight with his son, but unable to contain that. Yes, he had summoned his son home with a purpose, one that was now moot. “I was going to name you heir officially…but now, well I have time to find another,” he shook his head. “Please stay a while before returning to your dwarf…”

“Of course, Father…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, our story ends here for now. I'm glad that all of you came along for the ride, and I hoped you enjoyed. Leave comments <3


End file.
